


Never Alone

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Primeval
Genre: Character Death, Cutter has good friends, Gen, Gen Work, Ghost Stephen, Haunting, Stephen helps from beyond the grave, helping out before moving on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:59:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6590245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick didn't believe in life after death. Until one day he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal in 2011.

Nick Cutter didn't believe in ghosts. That's what he told himself at least, late at night, when he was certain he was being watched.

Dinosaurs, however extraordinary their presence in the here and now, were tangible. Ghosts were not.

Even he wasn't sure whether that was wishful thinking or not.

* * * * * *

“And now, what about these?” Lester pushed four pieces of paper into the centre of the table the team were sitting around.

“We don't know,” Cutter replied. They'd already been in this meeting half an hour too long as far as he was concerned.

“Four anomalies in as many days,” Lester intoned, ignoring Cutter's sigh, “with no apparent creature incursions and they all close within an hour of opening. What's going on?”

He directed his question to Connor, who was bouncing slightly in his seat.

“What if it’s a sign that the anomalies are fading?” He chanced a glance over at Cutter, but frowned at the expression he saw there. “They could be losing strength.”

“You mean this nightmare might finally be over?” Lester asked. No one spoke for a moment, each trying to imagine what a normal life would be like.

“Does that look like an “N” to you?” Cutter asked, breaking the silence.

Lester's forehead crinkled. “What?”

“The papers,” Cutter said, pointing at the sheets on the table. “Do you think they just moved?”

“Cutter?” Connor asked, voice trailing off; he really had no idea what he was going to say.

Lester's expression morphed between annoyance and concern. “Perhaps you came back too soon. Stephen's death...”

“I'm fine,” Cutter said, abruptly standing up. “I'm going to get some air.”

And if, as he passed the chair that Stephen always sat in, he felt the cold press of invisible fingers against his arm, he knew better than to mention it.

* * * * * *

“Do you think he's all right?” Connor asked Abby. They were trundling down to the ADD, Connor with half a mind on tinkering with the settings, and Abby wanting to make sure that he ate.

“I don't know,” Abby said. “He still feels so guilty about Stephen. We all do.”

Connor nodded. They all felt like they should have done more, said more, pushed more. He shivered and pulled his waistcoat tighter around himself. “They really need to fix the air conditioning in here.”

* * * * * * *

“I'm not sure forcing Cutter to take sick leave is the best solution, James,” Jenny said. She'd stayed behind at the raising of Lester's imperious eyebrow, but now she regretted not having hurried after Cutter herself.

“You don't think he's a danger to the team? To himself?”

“He's a little – distracted – maybe. But that's understandable. His best friend did die right in front of him.”

The papers on the table fluttered as if caught in a breeze. Lester stared at them suspiciously. Maintenance had been on the phone that morning, apologising that the air conditioning would be out for most of the week.

“You don't think insanity is catching, do you?” he asked.

Jenny's expression indicated that she certainly did today.

* * * * * *

When Abby walked into Cutter's office, carrying a tray with two mugs and a selection of biscuits, Cutter startled, but wasn’t quick enough in minimising his computer screen so Abby had seen exactly what he'd been looking at.

“Hauntings? I wouldn’t expect you to believe in all that.” She handed him a mug of tea and smiled as he helped himself to two Jammy Dodgers.

“I don't,” he said.

Abby looked suspiciously at him and then sat down, sipping at her own drink. “Then why the research?”

Cutter waved at the computer screen and then at the room at large. “It was already like that when I came in. It _was_ ,” he insisted, since Abby clearly didn't believe him.

“It's all right, you know, to start questioning. When my Nan died Grandpa was convinced she was still around. It can be comforting.”

Cutter's jaw clenched. “Do I look comforted?”

Abby had to admit that he really didn't. “Grief does strange things...” She stopped as Cutter turned his back on her.

“Look,” he demanded, pointing at the computer screen.

“I don't see...” But then she did. “Maybe...” Cutter's glare silenced her.

“I certainly didn't do it.”

Abby nodded. They all knew how useless Cutter could be with the ARC's computers. So why then were Stephen's login details blinking furiously back at them?

* * * * * *

“It wasn't accessed remotely,” Connor said, fingers flying over the keyboard of the ADD. “And...” he looked at the monitor to his left and fast forwarded through its picture. “...it doesn't look like anyone went into your office.”

“Could the CCTV have been tampered with?” Lester asked.

The others jumped; they hadn't heard him approach.

“I can check the direct feed,” Connor said, “but I really don’t think so.”

“There are no such thing as ghosts,” Lester said emphatically. “I don't know why we're even entertaining the idea.”

But they were.

* * * * * *

“Maybe he just wants to send a message?” Connor suggested. “Or a warning?”

Connor had had much less trouble believing that Stephen was trying to contact them from beyond the grave. The others were still experiencing various degrees of incredulity.

“Maybe,” Cutter nodded, warming up to the idea as he paced up and down in his office. “Maybe we could ask him for a sign?”

The picture on the wall behind him fell to the floor with a resounding crash, making them all jump.

“Does that work?” Connor asked.

“This is crazy,” Jenny said. She stared at the broken shards of glass. “We're all crazy.”

* * * * * * *

“What about a priest?” Connor asked, over the thumping of the bass. They'd made an executive decision to head to the pub for lunch, on the theory that Stephen would only haunt places he knew well.

“To do what? Hold an exorcism?” Cutter scoffed. Then, more quietly, “Do they even do that any more?”

“I thought you have to get permission from the Pope,” Jenny said. She looked even less impressed at the turn the conversation had taken than Cutter.

Before they could come to a decision, their mobiles all started to ring, and they gratefully hurried off in search of an anomaly.

* * * * * * *

“That's weird,” Connor said, after a minute's fiddling with his laptop.

“I was rather hoping for something more concrete than that,” Jenny said. “Like an explanation.”

“I can't get a proper lock on it, the signal's all over the place. It's like it's not able to generate power. Like it's blocked.”

Jenny sighed. Connor was clearly talking more to himself than her now.

She looked around the clearing with some trepidation. The soldiers were all in position. Connor was furiously working, with Abby a calming presence at his shoulder, and Cutter was staring at the anomaly as it blinked in and out of existence.

And she couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't alone.

“Oh no,” Connor groaned and Jenny looked over at him sharply, and then over at the anomaly. It was pulsing furiously now, growing bigger – far bigger than any anomaly they'd seen before. And it was heading straight for Cutter.

Becker broke into a furious run but it was obvious that he wouldn't make it in time.

And then Cutter was toppling to the ground, just exactly as if he'd been pulled downwards, and the anomaly pulsed harmlessly above his head.

* * * * * *

“I don't understand,” the medic was saying. “You didn't go through into an Ice Age?”

“No,” Cutter said for the third time, already having lost all patience. “Connor identified it as the Silurian. Desert. Hot.”

“But these marks,” the medic said, indicating Cutter's wrists, “they're more like dry ice burns than heat.”

They also looked like perfectly formed finger impressions, but if the medic wasn't going to mention that, then Cutter certainly wasn't.

“Can I get back to work?”

“Well,” the medic said, then blanched at Cutter's expression, “I don't see why not if you...”

Cutter was out of the ambulance before the medic had time to finish his sentence.

* * * * * *

“Are you all right?” Abby asked, indicating the burn marks on Cutter's wrists.

Cutter nodded and started to pull down the sleeves on his shirt, but Jenny stopped him.

“Are those finger marks?”

Cutter looked anywhere but at Jenny. “Probably just a trick of the mind.”

Jenny gave a very unlady-like snort.

* * * * *

“It looks,” Connor said hesitatingly, “like there was some interference. From the other side.”

Becker rolled his eyes. “Please tell me you mean the other side of the anomaly.”

“Oh, yeah, 'course.” Connor looked strangely sheepish, then turned his laptop around so that they could see the numbers scrolling down the screen for themselves.

“In English, please, Connor,” Jenny said.

“Right.” Connor shifted so he was more comfortable on the tree stump that he was using as a stool. “When we first arrived the anomaly was at a normal level. Then, it seemed to fluctuate, becoming much weaker and seemingly losing power.” He pointed and then rubbed at the finger marks he'd left on the screen. “But, here's where it gets interesting.” He looked at the others for confirmation that they were finding it just as satisfying, then hurriedly carried on. “Then, here, there’s a spike. An electrical surge that sent the anomaly haywire – like it was receiving more energy than it could handle.”

“And you're sure it came from the other side...” Becker paused and frowned. “From the Silurian.”

“It definitely didn’t come from this one.”

“That's impossible,” Cutter stated flatly.

No one was going to disagree. But it had happened all the same.

* * * * * * *

Cutter knew he was being ridiculous. But that didn’t stop him from staying at the ARC, around other people, for as long as he possibly could. He told himself that he just wanted to plough through his overdue reports, but for once he didn’t have the energy to truly lie to himself.

That afternoon's anomaly had closed after a couple of hours and Connor had spent the rest of the afternoon and much of the evening scouring through reams of data until Abby had dragged him away. Jenny had left at a reasonable hour soon after and even Lester had gone home. Which only left Cutter in this part of the ARC.

Except Cutter couldn't shake the feeling that he _wasn't_ alone. That someone, or something, was shadowing his every move.

If they were some benevolent force wanting to look after him, they were certainly going about it the wrong way; Cutter had never been more on edge in his life.

* * * * * *

When Cutter walked through his front door he paused before turning on the light. A figure was hovering on the landing and all the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

“Stephen?” he whispered around the lump in his throat.

“Stephen's dead, Nick. I would have thought you knew that better than anyone.”

“ _Helen_ ,” he growled, turning on the light and finding great satisfaction at the way she shielded her eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Helen shrugged. “Can't a wife visit her husband after a traumatic event?”

“If Stephen...if you hadn't...” Cutter was incandescent with rage, words tripping over his tongue. Helen took a step down. “Don’t come near me.” Helen only smiled and came down another step.

The minute her foot touched the ground the empty vase by the door shattered into tiny pieces.

Cutter looked at the mess, then up at Helen. He was pleased to see that her eyes were wide with shock – apparently his wife – ex-wife – hadn't seen everything after all.

“How did you -?” she started to ask, but the picture near Cutter fell to the floor and she frowned.

“I think you should leave.”

“But -” The sounds of breaking crockery in the kitchen finally sent her to the door.

She stared long and hard at Cutter's face before she stepped outside. He was sure he heard her mutter “impossible” under her breath, but he was too exhausted to care, merely slamming the door shut behind her.

“I don't suppose you can clean up the mess you’ve made?” Cutter asked the empty air. Nothing happened. “Great. Thanks a lot.”

Then he slowly made his way upstairs, too tired to even investigate the state of the kitchen. No doubt it would keep until morning.

* * * * * *

“Wow,” Connor said. “You really weren't kidding.”

He, Abby and Jenny were peering into Cutter's kitchen, not quite believing what they were seeing. Or what Cutter was telling them.

“Are you sure Helen didn’t do it?” Jenny asked. “In a fit of...”

“Homicidal rage against crockery?” Cutter asked. “No. They definitely broke while she was standing in front of me. There's no way she could have done it.”

“Maybe you should ask Stephen what he wants?” Abby suggested with a shrug. “It would be a start, at least.”

“Provided it _is_ Stephen,” Jenny said, before shaking her head. “No, please, just forget I said anything.”

The four of them looked at each other and then back at the mess of Cutter's kitchen.

“We'll clean up first,” Jenny suggested.

* * * * * * *

“Are we holding a séance?” Connor asked, excitedly looking around Cutter's living room.

“No,” Cutter said, exasperated. “We’re just...” He trailed off, at a loss to explain to himself, never mind to the others, what it was they were about to attempt. He just knew that it was most definitely not a séance.

Abby and Jenny sat nervously on the sofa while Connor hovered in the doorway and Cutter tried to keep himself still in the chair. They'd moved everything breakable out of the way except for the table, where Connor's laptop sat, ready to be used. If Stephen had logged in to the ARC computer's once before, chances were he could communicate like that again.

No one said anything for a very long time, long enough for Connor's enthusiasm to burn out until he was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor, too tense to even talk.

“This is ridiculous,” Cutter said anxiously. “Stephen? Stephen, are you there?”

A few moments of silence were punctuated by the tapping of keys. YES was staring back at them from the computer screen.

Abby gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Are you – are you trapped?” Cutter asked.

NO

“Are you all right?”

COLD

Cutter took a deep breath. “Why are you here?”

STOP HELEN

Cutter nodded to himself and chanced a look around the room, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“What's she doing now?”

SIPHONING ENERGY FUTURE

“She’s siphoning energy? From the anomaly? Is she using future technology? How is she doing it?”

“Cutter, for goodness sake, give him a chance,” said Jenny.

Cutter flushed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry. I just...” He found he couldn't finish the rest of his sentence, but this time the silence that followed was almost comforting.

ME TOO

Cutter smiled. “Can you...move on, if you want?”

NEED HELP YOU FIRST

Cutter sighed. “You've done more than enough, Stephen. More than enough.” Jenny reached over and patted him on the arm and Cutter's world was brought back into sharp focus, now that he remembered that he wasn't on his own in this.

“How can we help?” Jenny asked, raising her voice slightly as she addressed the ceiling.

SCIENCE MUSEUM 4PM

“The science museum?” Abby asked. “What's going to happen there?”

But no matter how many more questions they asked, it seemed that Stephen was done talking to them.

* * * * * *

The top floor of the Science Museum was very quiet. Eerily so. The team had hardly come across anyone else, which Cutter thought was probably a good thing, considering that Becker and his soldiers didn’t exactly blend into the background.

“What makes you think we should be on this floor?” Becker asked, for the second time. It had been perfectly obvious that he didn't believe them about Stephen's ghost and honestly, Cutter couldn't blame him.

“I just have a feeling,” Cutter said. Becker pursed his lips, but remained silent.

Up ahead Connor was eagerly peering at all the displays when he abruptly stopped and nearly fell over his own feet.

“Got something?” Cutter asked.

“Dunno. Maybe. Look at that.” Connor pointed to a blue rectangular object that seemed to be gently pulsating. Connor moved his hand-held anomaly detector up to it and then nodded to himself. “It's transmitting at the same frequency as an anomaly.”

“What is it?” Becker asked, leaning forward.

“I’m not sure,” Connor replied, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Well it's definitely not a kaleidoscope,” Cutter said, reading from the description next to it. “It's possible this is future technology.

“Hidden in plain sight,” Becker said. “Clever”.

Cutter was about to comment when a shout from the guard by the door drew their attention – someone was coming.

They hid as best they could, Becker shoving them further back than Cutter felt was strictly necessary, but for once he chose not to argue. Instead he watched as Helen strode confidently into the room and went straight for the cabinet where they had discovered the artefact. Becker pressed forward and held his gun against Helen’s back.

“Mrs Cutter, we haven't been introduced. Captain Becker. And I have absolutely no problem with severing your spinal cord.”

Helen slowly turned around, looking absolutely furious, especially when Cutter and the others stepped out of their hiding places.

“How?” she asked.

Becker glanced back at Cutter, who shrugged. “Stephen Hart,” Becker said, as if the admission was physically painful.

Helen blinked, but looked more annoyed than surprised. “He should have learned to mind his own business by now.”

Cutter saw red and it was only a firm hand upon his shoulder that stopped him from doing something to Helen that he would probably regret.

It wasn't till much later that he realised no one had been standing behind him at the time.

* * * * * *

“What was she planning, exactly?” Lester asked. “World domination? Extinction of the human race?”

Cutter slumped further into his seat. “Connor thinks she was using the power from one or more anomalies to open her own.”

Lester sat up straighter in his chair. “She was what?”

Cutter nodded glumly. “According to him it's perfectly possible. Though any minor miscalculation and too much energy would be released. Like we saw the other day.”

“How much energy, potentially, are we talking about?”

Cutter expanded his arms as far as he could and then shrugged. “We're talking the size of a small nuclear bomb. Destruction of the entire human race wasn't that far off of a guess.”

Lester shook his head. “And you're seriously telling me that we have a ghost to thank for this?”

“Not a ghost. Stephen.”

“I thought you were a man of science.”

The papers on Lester's desk rustled and the pictures on the walls rattled. Cutter raised both eyebrows at him.

“Maintenance must have fixed the air conditioning.”

Cutter stood up. “Believe what you want Lester, but there are things in this universe that are unquantifiable.”

And with that he stormed out, feeling like he'd lost the argument without really knowing what it was.

* * * * *

Cutter sat in the dark for hours that night, not quite willing to say goodbye. The air was charged with expectation and with each passing second Cutter felt more and more like he was failing.

“Thank you,” he said at last. “For everything. I'll make sure Helen never hurts anyone again.”

The silence continued for a moment and then there was a quiet buzzing before the lights flickered and suddenly the room was flooded with light.

And Cutter knew for certain that Stephen was gone.


End file.
